


The Next Step

by Kuukkeli



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Confessions, Dancing, Everybody died from cuteness, Fluff, M/M, MTMTE, There were no survivors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 05:25:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4467062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuukkeli/pseuds/Kuukkeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will they take it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Next Step

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [Shut Up And Dance](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbcCG7PkI18) by Walk The Moon.
> 
> Everyone on LL ships the Hatchet and the Hippie. That's scientifically proved - just ask Perceptor. And Rodimus is the best wing man.

“Ratchet! Wait up!”

The said mech stopped and glanced over his shoulder and saw Rodimus running after him. Now it wasn’t time for any stupid conversations; the medic was feeling antsy and wanted just to have peace in his hab suite.

“What is it, Rodimus?” he grunted as he turned to fully face the younger mech.

“Have you considered it?” Well, that wasn’t a vague question at all. Ratchet huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Considered what?”

“You know... What I asked you a few days ago”, the orange mech poked hopeful, his blue optics gleaming and a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Oh, that. Yeah, I have”, the older mech replied.

“So?”

“Might as well try it, though I’m not sure if it’ll work”, Ratchet said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Of course it’ll work! Trust me”, Rodimus said and winked before strutting off.

Ratchet sighed heavily and continued his way to his hab suite for much needed relaxation.

\----

The orange mech walked straight to Drift’s hab suite, knowing his best friend was in there meditating. He knocked on the door before feeding the access code.

“Hi, Drift”, he announced from the door and stepped in. To his surprise, the white mech wasn’t meditating but writing something on a data pad. “Whatcha doin’?”

The other mech lifted his gaze from the pad and gave Rodimus his attention. “Just... writing”, he replied quietly, fiddling with the stylus in his fingers.

“Uh-huh... Anyways”, Rodimus said, his voice bright but tender, “I thought it’d be nice that you came to the bar this evening. Just to, you know, spend some time with me and others.”

“Rodimus”, Drift sighed and put down the utensil, his optics glinting with apology, “As I remember, I’ve told you that I don’t care much to be in crowded spaces.”

“I know that but can’t you make an exception this time? For me? Pretty please?” Rodimus begged, entwining his fingers as in a prayer, peeking from behind his hands. He really wanted this to work; he couldn’t let this fail. He held his vents and waited for Drift to give in and agree to go with him.

“All right, I’ll come.” It was hard to say no to his amica, even though it didn’t always pay to his own advantages.

Rodimus nearly jumped in his place but managed to keep his eagerness under control. “Okay. See you in the evening.”

With that, the captain left Drift to continue his writing and disappeared to talk with Blaster.

\----

Drift had second thoughts about going to the bar; what if the crew still hated him? What if they still gave disapproving glances at his direction? The last time he checked, he and the crew weren’t exactly in terms with each other. Though, there were exceptions, like Rung, Rodimus, Tailgate and Cyclonus... And Ratchet.

The memory of Ratchet helping him up from the floor after getting a hit to the head, the strong but gentle hands on him... the concerned and sad look in the old, blue optics... He almost had asked, _begged_ for the medic to come with him; that he was scared and couldn’t leave him. But at the last second before the words were blurted out, Drift had bit his tongue and the words had died away.

The very moment he had sat down on the pilot’s seat of the small shuttle, he let the tears stream freely, unable to look back as the shuttle flew further away from the place he once called home. The pain in his spark had been unimaginable.

Then had come the day the red and white mech had appeared almost out of nowhere to take him back home and Drift hadn’t believed his optics. He had told himself he was seeing things, hallucinating. He told himself that Ratchet was on _Lost Light_ , not here after him.

Then some things happened and somehow the medic managed to talk him to come back. And... to be honest, he didn’t know what to think about it, even to this day – even though he’d been on _Lost Light_ for nearly two weeks. There were things he had to get used to again, things he had to re-do, things he had to... admit and come clean to himself and some others.

He had heard that Rodimus confessed the crew and told the truth about the Overlord incident. That Drift wasn’t the one to be pointed at and blamed. Hearing that was... admittedly soothing and eased the weight of quilt somewhat.

Still, some days he mulled over things and some days there was quiet voice coming from the back of his head; dark, unsettling, downright _nasty_ whispers. That mean voice was quickly shut up as Drift concentrated on having a home once again, having the few mechs around him who cared about him.

Things weren’t yet solved and sorted, no, but he was getting there little by little. And that was what mattered; with the help of his small support group he’d eventually get on his feet and stand on his own, head held high and bask in the acceptance of others.

His train of thoughts was shattered by a knock on his door, the sound startling him. Rising from the berth on his feet, Drift walked to the door and opened it to see Rodimus standing behind it, shuffling his feet.

“Evening, Rodimus”, the swordsmech greeted and gave a small smile as the other lifted his face at the voice.

“Hello. So, you ready to go?” the orange mech suggested, stepping aside to give Drift room to come out.

“I guess”, was the meek reply. He honestly didn’t know what to expect as they headed to the Swerve’s. He could already hear some upbeat, joyful music coming from the direction they were going.

They arrived at the bar and Drift walked right behind Rodimus to the long bar table through the crowd, stealing quick glances around him; everyone smiled and was well on the road of getting drunk. Sitting down on a stool, both two younger mechs ordered a cube but as soon as Rodimus got his own, he took off to the dance floor.

Drift watched after his friend as he was left alone with his cube. What a start for this evening, yay. On the other hand, he can’t force Rodimus or anybody else to be with him, not now when there was music blasting from the speakers and the atmosphere was through the roof. No point in flatten someone’s evening by sulking.

The white mech slumped over the counter and fingered the cube, staring at the liquid in it as it sloshed gently from side to side. Closing off his surroundings, Drift sighed and made his mind; he’d have this one cube and then leave.

But then someone came to him and apparently he hadn’t heard them as there was a gentle tap on his shoulder. He scrambled to sit up straight and saw Ratchet sitting on the stool next to him with a shy smile on his lips. He said something but Drift didn’t hear him; he had shut off his audio receptors and quickly rebooted them.

“Sorry?”

The older mech leaned closer to get his words through the loud music, “I said good to see you here.”

Drift shivered slightly at the gruff, warm voice and tried to come up with a proper answer but all he managed to voice was a vague sound that resembled a mixture between a squeak and a grunt. He hoped Ratchet took it as a positive gesture. And it seemed like he did as his smile widened and he got a glimpse of the medic’s teeth.

A red hand reached up and brushed against Drift’s cheek, testing at first but then the younger mech pushed his head against the probing hand, encouraging the whole warm palm to press firmly against his cheek.

“I’m so glad to see you here”, Ratchet murmured into Drift’s audio, so very close, “So glad...” His other hand abandoned his cube to cup the white mech’s face, brushing his lips against Drift’s. “So glad...” he repeated again but never finished the kiss as a new song began to play.

All of a sudden, the older mech got up and offered his hand to the other. “May I have this dance?”

Drift visibly hesitated but eventually grasped the hand and was guided to the dance floor, in the middle of the already dancing crowd, some even sang along.

_Oh, don’t you dare look back_  
_Just keep your eyes on me..._

Oh, slag. Drift didn’t know how to dance and having Ratchet right there didn’t help the matter _at fragging all_!

“What wrong?” the larger mech asked with a smile, his hands gliding down to the curvy hips.

“I... I can’t dance”, Drift admitted sheepishly, ducking his head to avoid optic contact. But Ratchet was having none of that and with his right hand he brought the precious face back into view.

“It doesn’t matter. Just close your optics and let go. Imagine there are nobody else than us. Go with the music”, the red and white mech said and started swaying with the beat and melody, pulling Drift along with him, both hands secured on those delicious hips.

“Th-this is embarrassing!” Ratchet heard Drift say but was beyond thrilled to feel the slight sway of the younger mech’s hips beneath his hands.

“That’s it, just go with the flow”, he purred and started moving more boldly himself. It wasn’t a secret that Ratchet knew how to dance – after all, he was and still _is_ the Party Ambulance.

“This mech here is my destiny”, Ratchet sang into Drift’s audio. Though, his singing voice wasn’t the most melodic but to the younger mech... oh, it worked wonders to him, making his spark beat faster and knees go weak. If he hadn’t a voice kink earlier, he was sure he did _now_.

Ratchet took Drift’s hands into his red ones, squeezing them gently. The amount of seriousness, affection and confidence nearly startled the younger mech. The way the larger mech held his hands...

“Drift... I’ve been meant to ask you this for a long time and... when you left, I thought I’d never be able to do this but now... Now that you’re back here, back here with _me_ , I can’t hold it in anymore.”

Oh, no. No, you don’t, Ratchet...

“Will you bond with me?”

As soon as the question left Ratchet’s lips, the whole bar fell quiet, music fading into a pleasant background noise, and two-hundred-and-some optics (yes, the Swerve’s did fit the whole crew in it) nailed on the two mechs. Drift felt uncomfortable to be suddenly the center of everybody’s attention. He wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. He preferred to be in the background and go unnoticed but now... He was well in sight and exposed. And everybody waited his answer.

What should he say? What did he want?

When the white mech remained silent, his mouth forming unintelligible words soundlessly, Ratchet started to feel anxious and lifted the black hands to his lips, kissing the backs of the fingers. “Drift?” he asked softly, trying to prevent his fear of getting rejected from seeping into his field. If the younger mech was to reject him, he’d have to accept it and go on with his life – though, hopefully still having Drift in his life, if not as a bonded, then at least as a very close friend.

That seemed to wake Drift from his unintentional stupor, his optics blinking several times before focusing on the mech in front of him. On those amazing hands, that beloved face... He felt tears well in his optics and a lump form in his throat as he withdrew his right hand and covered his mouth with it.

“Yes”, he sobbed, “Oh, Primus, _yes_!”

At that, the mechs around them, the entire bar, erupted into clapping and congratulating cheers and whistling. The swordsmech wrapped his arms around Ratchet’s neck and closed him into a tight hug, his field flooding with immense and unconditional and _true_ joy, love and affection, the other’s field echoing the very same emotions. As Drift leapt into his arms, Ratchet sighed a long ex-vent, his optics sliding closed in relief and returned the hug.

The swordsmech never let go of Ratchet as he leaned his head back and kissed him square on the mouth, leading him into a deep, loving, _perfect_ kiss. (Somewhere in the crowd Getaway and Skids cheered with the others but all of a sudden Skids fainted.)

The music came back loud and now Drift was able to let go completely, dancing from the bottom of his spark, completely sure his life was finally taken the next, important and above all, meaningful step.

**Author's Note:**

> Now it's time for you, internet, to find EVERY. SINGLE fainting gifs you possibly can. EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. GO!
> 
>  
> 
> [Getaway on the left, Skids on the right.](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/fb/28/b2/fb28b2d4b7d349e3daf9b0698bc9f322.gif)


End file.
